An Unexpected Endearment
by whorecruxez
Summary: Natalia Creswell, a 15-year-old, cynical, qualified Auror, is sent to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to 'keep an eye' on Harry in his fifth year. Following several unpleasant encounters, they begin to find comfort in each other. But there are more than a few complications along the way. Rated T for language.
1. The Boy Who Lived (Unfortunately)

'There's no way I'm going back to school.'

This was completely unfair. 13 years of exhaustingly rigorous training and examinations from the mere age of 2, all so I could be put into Fagwarts to protect some skinny kid I didn't even like the sound of. I deserved a proper job. I was, technically, a qualified Auror.

'You don't have a choice, Nat. Didn't you hear what happened?!' asked my 'beloved' mother.

'What?'

'The poor boy was attacked by Dementors!'

'WHAT?!'

'They might expel him for using a Patronus as self-defense. Underage magic. I don't know, there's going to be a hearing- it's all very complicated.'

'Well he can look after him-fucking-self then, can't he!'

'Watch your tongue,' my dad interfered, whilst perusing a copy of the _Daily Prophet._

'He's been doing it for 15 years, why not now?'

'Would you lower your voice?! We're in the Blacks' home, for god's sake! Potter's two best friends are in the other room! Do you have no respect?! You are going, and that's final. Your uniform and books have been bought and we have kept your money in an envelope in your room-'

Before mum could finish, I left the filthy excuse for a living room and slammed the door behind me.

Goddamned Harry Potter. What a good-for-nothing little shit. Can't even keep himself in school. But a Patronus? At fifteen? Admittedly, I expected worse. I shook my head. It's not like it was that impressive. Pah! I learnt how to use the Patronus at nine.

* * *

'NAT! TIME TO GO!' I heard Tonks' voice from downstairs a couple of hours later. I groaned and, putting aside my work papers, stepped into my boots, grabbed my broom and ran downstairs, where Moody, Tonks, Kingsley, and two others I didn't know and didn't care to know the names of were waiting. My parents stood in the kitchen doorway beside Molly Weasley, eyebrows raised, arms crossed. I lifted my hand to gesture a goodbye before turning with a sigh.

'Let's just get this over with.'

The six of us travelled together across London, and into the outskirts; Tonks and I racing as usual. Finally we descended onto a wide road with a dead-end, where I could see a sign reading Privet Drive. With a flick of his wand, Moody unlocked the front door of a large, detached house that looked exactly the same as the one next to it, and we all stepped in. Tonks lit her wand, and we all got a glance of the house. It was tacky, with floral sofas and antiques that had been incongruously placed.

'This place is disgusting. God, does anyone have any sense of style anymore?' I blurted.

'Oh, will you shut up, Creswell?! We're only here for the boy,' Moody whispered. I complied.

We advanced up the stairs and, with attempted stealth (the goddamn floorboards kept creaking) approached the door, which Kingsley unlocked with a flick of his wand. I kicked the door open.

'They're very clean, these Muggles! It's unnatural,' Tonks whispered, holding her lit wand in front of her.

'Tonks, for god's sake,' interrupted Moody.

Standing in the middle of the room was a scrawny, sweaty boy with a wand held firmly in front of him. His hair looked as if a crow had given birth on his head, and then died. His eyes, however, were a brilliant green and his expression changed quickly from fearful to excited.

'Professor Moody! What are you doing here?'

'Rescuing you, of course.'

He glanced at all of us through his stupidly round spectacles before throwing on a jacket and following us out. The idiot wouldn't shut up.

'Where are we going? The letters said that I've been expelled from Hogwarts.'

'Well you haven't been. Not yet,' said Moody. 'Kingsley, you take point.'

'But the letters said-'

'Dumbledore has persuaded the Minister to suspend your expulsion, pending a formal hearing,' Kingsley answered, in his deep, accented voice.

'A hearing?' Would the loser just be quiet?

'Yes, a hearing!' I exclaimed in irritation. He turned his head to face me in shock.

'Don't worry, Harry, we'll explain everything when we get back to Headquarters.'

'Not here, Nymphadora!' Moody whispered.

'_Don't. Call me. Nymphadora_.' Tonks' hair grew a fiery shade of red as Moody's command inflamed her, and then back to its usual purple.

'Stay in formation, everyone!' Moody ignored her. 'Don't break ranks if one of us is killed.'

I snorted and glanced at Harry. 'Don't worry.'

Together, we mounted our brooms and made our way back to Grimmauld Place. The encounter had been exactly as I had expected- a complete and utter waste of time. We arrived at Grimmauld Place, and house numbers 11 and 13 separated, revealing a number 12. Potter marvelled at this, of course.

'In you go, son.' He entered, moving slowly and cautiously. Could he just move his arse for once?! It seemed my feelings were mutual amongst the group, however, as Moody shoved him aside and limped past through the narrow corridor. We all followed in single file, me being the last, as usual. Of course, Moody came to a halt to speak to Kingsley just as I was about to squeeze past Potter. The two of us stood there, stuffed in a corridor meant for one person at a time. I could feel his breathing, and he could feel mine. The corners of his mouth curved upwards slightly, and I rolled my eyes.

'Could we keep moving, please?!' I called. He wasn't about to charm me into falling in love with him, or whatever it is arrogant, pretentious boys do these days.

Moody stopped muttering, glowered at me and entered the kitchen, where Sirius, Arthur Weasley, Remus and my dad seemed to be having a heated discussion. This all stopped when Sirius caught sight of Harry. A smile started to form on both their faces as realisation sunk in. There was a shuffling as everyone attempted to awkwardly hide the fact that they had been talking about Potter. I pushed past him and sat down next to dad, as Molly Weasley rose to her feet, left the kitchen and strategically shut the door behind her, leaving the room in silence.

'Well that was awkward.' I just had to.

'That's it, you're going to your room,' mum's response was immediate, as if she'd expected every word of it.

Exhaling, I stood and left the room. With my luck, Potter was prudently making his way up the stairs in front of me. He exceeded my expectations- he was an even bigger idiot than I had thought.

Having heard my footsteps, he turned to look at my exasperated face, and moved aside to let me pass. What a true gentleman he was. I glared at his seemingly absent-minded face. I could feel his eyes on me as I ran to the top of the house and into my room, where I remained until dinner.

* * *

'This is very, very peculiar,' Mr Weasley said at dinner. 'It seems that your hearing at the Ministry is to be before the entire wizard'

'I don't understand... What's the Ministry of Magic got against me?' It's like every time he opened his mouth he was asking me to shove a fist down his throat.

'Show him,' said Moody to us. 'He'll find out soon enough.'

My dad passed his copy of The Daily Prophet he'd been reading earlier to Harry, and mixed feelings of horror, shock and annoyance developed in his face as he read.

Sirius tried to cheer him up. 'He's been attacking Dumbledore as well...' As if that was much better. He sighed. 'Fudge is using all his power, including his influence on the Daily Prophet to smear anyone who claims the Dark Lord has returned.'

'Why?!'

'The Minister thinks Dumbledore's after his job,' said Lupin.

'But that's insane! No-one in their right mind could believe that Dumbledore would've-'

'Exactly the point! Fudge isn't in his right mind. It's been twisted and warped by fear. Now fear makes people do terrible things, Harry. The last time Voldemort gained power, he almost destroyed everything we hold most dear.' He glanced at Sirius, and Sirius looked down, pensively. 'Now he's returned, and I'm afraid the Minister will do almost anything to avoid facing the terrifying truth.'

'We think Voldemort wants to build up his army again,' Sirius continued. I knew where this was going. This conversation wasn't going to end well. 'Fourteen years ago he had huge numbers at his command, and not just witches and wizards, but all a manner of dark creatures. He's been recruiting heavily, and we've been attempting to do the same. But gathering followers isn't the only thing he's interested in.'

Moody cleared his throat.

'We believe... Voldemort may be after something.' Oh god.

'Sirius,' Moody interrupted.

'...Something he didn't have last time.' There we go. Here comes the drama.

'You mean... like, a weapon?' Harry asked.

'No. That's enough,' Molly Weasley stepped in. 'He's just a boy! You say much more and you might as well induct him into the Order straight away!'

'Great! I want to join! If Voldemort's raising an army then I want to fight!' Oh, please no. Not Potter. Anyone but Potter.

Sirius winked at him, and I left the table.


	2. Introductions

'Gryffindor!' the notorious Sorting Hat declared.

'Great,' I responded dryly.

Well. There was nothing to be done now. Dumbledore lifted the worn, oversized rag off my head and smiled.

'Your bags shall be taken to your dorm,' he said. 'We look forward to having you here, Miss Creswell. Welcome to Hogwarts. The password at the moment is _Flabbergast._'

'Thanks.'

At least I didn't have to see Potter's face every day. That is, of course, if we didn't share the same classes... Oh god. The thought alone made me gag.

I smiled an uncomfortable, forced smile before standing, turning and making my way out the door. That was when I realised... I'd never been here before.

'Um-' I turned back around. 'Where exactly do I go?'

'The Gryffindor common room is to the left, turn right, walk all the way down and climb two flights of stairs. I can have someone escort you if you-'

'Oh, no, that's quite alright. Goodnight, Professor.'

He smiled.

As I reluctantly made my way to the common room, _I do not want to be here _was being recited repeatedly in my head. I thought I could see a window ahead. Maybe I could jump?

No, Nat. No. This was my life now; this was my job. Despite my negative outlook and the fact that I was being forced to befriend and spend time with a complete imbecile with annoyingly round spectacles, it couldn't be that bad. School wouldn't be an issue- I knew everything anyways. It was the people here that I was not looking forward to meeting. I knew what it was that I expected: a whole bunch of dumb, conceited assholes without a speck of intellect, let alone substance.

As I walked, I began to think to myself: _where exactly am I going?_ I think I'd missed my turning. I began walking back the way I'd came, in search of a right turn that I was too buried in my own thoughts to notice. Ah, yes.

I walked all the way down and came to an open doorway, where I was met with a huge room, filled completely with staircases. Which two was I meant to take?! On the walls were an uncountable number of moving paintings. With a sigh, I stepped onto the first staircase I saw and gasped. It was moving?! I held on tightly to the railings. What the fuck was happening? It came to a sharp halt as it connected with another staircase, which would lead me further upwards. I climbed slowly with caution, and as I predicted, the next flight of stairs slowly moved so that it led to a huge painting of a rather plump woman.

'Password please.'

'Um... _Flabbergast_?'

'Enter.'

And the painting opened just like a door, revealing an arched walkway inside. _Was this it?_ I could hear people inside. _This better be it._

I exhaled and prepared myself for what was to come. Never am I doing this again. Ever.

It seemed a small room for its use, and the walls were splashed with red and gold paint. There were several tables and chairs in the corners of the room, and three sofas in front of a fireplace on the opposite side. Students with loosened ties and untucked shirts were dispersed all around the room, many of which were writing, reading, and making out. I looked around for any sign of Potter, but I was safe. I decided to 'blend in' and sat myself down on an empty chair, taking off my robes and loosening my tie. I took a book I'd been reading out of my pocket and was about to start when Harry Potter walked into the room, and everyone fell silent.

'Dean? Seamus?' Harry asked, looking at a small lanky boy holding a copy of the _Daily Prophet _and a tall, dark-skinned one seated on one of the sofas.

'Alright,' said the dark-skinned boy. 'Better than Seamus' anyway.' So that was Dean.

'Mam didn't want me to come back this year,' said Seamus, throwing down his newspaper and standing up.

'Why not?' Harry said monotonously, rolling his eyes.

'Let me see, uhh, because o' you!' Seamus continued. 'The _Daily Prophet's _been sayin' a lotta things about ya, Harry, and about Dumbledore as well.'

'What, and your mum believes them?'

'Well, nobody was there the night Cedric died.'

'Well I guess you should read the _Prophet_ then, like your stupid mother, it'll tell you everything you'll need to know!' Rude.

'Don't you _dare_ talk about my mother like that!'

'I'll have a go at anyone who calls me a liar!'

That was when Ron Weasley walked in.

'What's going on?'

'He's mad, is what's goin' on! Do you believe the rubbish he's comin' out with about You-Know-Who?!'

'Yeah. I do. Anyone else got a problem with Harry?'

Silence. The two of them looked around threateningly before running upstairs to what I guessed were their dorms. _Awkwaaaaard._

Seamus sat back down next to his friend Dean, and the noise slowly crept back to its original volume. I'd decided it was time to get involved. Shoving my book back into my pocket, I followed them into the dormitory.

'I SAID I'M FINE, RON!' I overheard Harry shout. _Someone's_ on their period.

'Right...' Ron replied quietly. 'I'll just leave you to your thoughts then.' He left the dorm, and walked past me with discouraged eyes back into the common room.

I stepped into the dorm, where Harry seemed to be adjusting his tie. He looked up as I entered.

'Hi.' _Nat, you're an idiot._

'You were at Grimmauld Place, right?' I nodded. 'I didn't know you go here.'

'Um. Yeah, well... I'm new.' He nodded in acknowledgement. 'Do you want to talk?'

'Not really.'

I bit my lip. 'I believe you.'

'What?'

'About Voldemort.'

'Oh. Thanks.'

'So it's my first day here, and everyone seems like a complete idiot. No need to worry about what they think.'

'Thanks,' he said again, smiling. 'Where did you go before?'

'I didn't,' I explained. I sat down on a bed opposite his. 'I'm actually already an Auror.'

'Oh, wow... That's um...' He trailed off, scratching his head. 'So why are you here?'

'I'm supposed to be "keeping an eye" on you. I don't know.'

'You're what?'

'Dumbledore sent me. Trust me, I don't want to do it as much as you don't want me to. But don't worry, I'm not going to be on your arse every second.'

'You're not going to be _where_?'

'I'm Nat,' I exhaled. _Great job, dumbass._

'_Gnat_? Like the insect?'

'It's short for Natalia. Natalia Creswell.'

'Oh. Yeah, I'm Harry.'

'Nice to meet you, Harry.'

We smiled. Harry Potter wasn't half bad. Maybe even a little cu- _No, Nat. Stop it._


	3. Firsts

It was too early to be awake.

Fucking Hogwarts.

My morning consisted of being shaken awake and dragged to breakfast by an apprehensive Hermione - who, for the record, I barely knew at the time - at which I was frowned upon (quite literally) by a group of year-belows for devouring three apples and a piece of toast (I hadn't had time for dinner the night before).

After several arguments with my new 'pal', Hermione had given up and had eventually let me stuff the ridiculous cloak into my rucksack, as it felt much too narcissistic and inordinate to wear on a daily basis. Admittedly, I was both of these things, but I refused to let myself convey this through my school uniform.

The first lesson of the year was to be Defense Against the Dark Arts, or 'DADA', as it was commonly known amongst my 'peers' ('inmates' would be a more appropriate word). Still, I was certain it would be more enjoyable than History of Magic.

* * *

I was wrong.

This is why: Dolores fucking Umbridge.

The lesson had started out promising. Everyone in the classroom had been passing around a paper bird whilst laughing and discussing meaningless things. I could have thought I saw a boy with bleach blonde hair glance at me a number of times from across the classroom; a boy I had, after the first few glimpses, realised was a Malfoy. However, our moods changed just a little when the bird caught fire and perished into ashes right before our eyes. Our bodies all shifted to face the back of the classroom, where there stood a short and stout lady with gelled hair and pink everything; the lady who, to our horror, was to be our new DADA teacher.

'Good morning, children.' What the fuck. '"Ordinary Wizarding Level Examinations"! "O! W! Ls"! More commonly known as... "OWLs"!' She said this as she walked to the front of the classroom and smiled artificially at the class, who I knew were all thinking the same thing. I could have thought I saw Harry Potter and Weasley exchange scornful glances. 'Study hard and you will be rewarded. Fail to do so, and the consequences may be severe.' She might as well have been saying 'FUCK YOU!' with an enormous smile stitched onto her face. She flicked her wand to her right, and the books on the tables either side of her floated off the desks and placed themselves in front of each one of us. _Dark Arts Defense: Basics for Beginners_ was etched onto each one of them, with a cartoon of a witch and wizard reading the exact book on the cover.

'Your previous instructing of this subject has been disturbingly... uneven,' she continued. 'You'll be pleased to know, from now on you will be following a carefully structured, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic. Yes?' She peered over to our table, and I panicked before realising she was looking at Hermione seated to my left, her hand raised high.

'There's nothing in here about using defensive spells.'

'Using spells?!' as if she was shocked by the very thought. 'Ha! Ha! Well I can't imagine why you would need to use spells in my classroom.'

'We're not going to use magic?' Weasley asked.

'You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way.' If she smiled like that again, I swear I would shove my wand so hard up-

'Well, what use is that? If we're going to be attacked, it won't be _risk-free_,' Harry argued.

'Students will raise their hand when they speak in my class,' she turned, and her voice suddenly went cold. She turned back to face us, still smiling. 'It is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be sufficient to get you through your examinations which, after all, is what school is all about!'

'And how is "theory" supposed to prepare us for what's out there?!' Harry insisted.

'There is nothing _out there,_ dear! Who do you imagine would want to attack children like yourself?' _COULD SHE NOT?!_

'Oh, I don't know, maybe... Lord Voldemort?!' The class fell silent, and everyone looked down at their textbooks. The smile persisted, however.

'Now let me make this quite plain,' the bitch replied, her response almost a whisper. 'You have been told that a certain dark wizard is at large once again. This. Is. A. _Lie._'

'IT'S NOT A LIE! I SAW HIM, I FOUGHT HIM-'

'Detention, Mr. Potter!'

'So according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord?!'

'Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident.'

'IT WAS MURDER! VOLDEMORT KILLED HIM, YOU MUST KNOW THAT-'

'ENOUGH!' she screamed. 'Enough,' she repeated, whispering this time. 'See you later, Mr. Potter. My office.' She giggled sadistically.

I glanced at Harry sympathetically, and he turned his head to face me, his fists clenched on his lap. The rest of the lesson consisted of the class reading _Dark Arts Defense _in silence, (or pretending to read, in my case) and nobody seemed to object to Umbridge's methods again.

* * *

'Hey!' I heard rapid footsteps from behind me getting louder. Turning my head to find the source of the voice, I saw the Malfoy boy running towards me after the lesson and I stopped to let him catch his breath.

'Hi,' I said. _You need to stop doing that. _I continued walking, him by my side this time.

'Tough teacher, huh?' He was admittedly very attractive, with a tall, slender figure and silvery, iridescent eyes. His hair was very smartly combed back.

'Yeah. God, what a bitch.'

'So you're new?'

'Mhm.'

'Which house?'

'Gryffindor.'

'Oh,' he sounded disappointed. 'It's a shame... You're awfully pretty.'

'Are you trying to flirt with me?'

'Isn't it working?' _Yes,_ I thought._ Please ask me out._

'Not really.'

'Oh,' he smiled, obviously pleased with himself. _Was I that transparent? _'How about you have coffee with me then?'

'Hmm.'

'It's just coffee.'

'Then what's the point?' _What was I saying?!_

'Think about it. If you decide to come... 4 o' clock outside Madam Puddifoot's.' I had no idea what that was. 'Saturday.' I nodded in acknowledgement anyway to avoid the embarrassment. 'I'm Draco, by the way. Draco Malfoy.' _Draco. That _was his name.

'Natalia,' I replied.

'Natalia...?'

'Creswell.'

'Nice to meet you.' He smiled courteously, and with an elegant change of direction, walked back the way he came.

_Huh_, I thought. _I wasn't doing too bad._


	4. Quidditch

It was the first Quidditch Meeting of the year. Tryouts were today, meaning dozens of underdeveloped third-years were hobbling around, the heights of their broomsticks exceeding their own, pushing to get to the front of the queue. Since I was going to be here for a while, I figured I might as well make an effort to do something fruitful. The only issue I had with this was the attire. A thick red and gold sweater, with red leggings and wooden boots up to the knees, all topped off with a red and gold patterned cape thing. It was tight and uncomfortable and about as convenient as the stupid black cloaks that I now called my uniform. I could see Harry in front of the huge crowd, rubbing his hands together with apprehension. Just the idea of him making an effort to be authoritative put me on edge.

'Okay, so...' he started. 'Let's start with the hardest. Are there any prospective Seekers here?' All the third-years quickly shuffled out of the way. All that was left of the queue was... me.

'I guess it's just me,' I sighed.

'Just you?' Harry blurted. _What was his problem?_

'Yeah, me,' I replied dryly. 'Is that an issue?'

'Oh- er- no,' Harry was flustered. 'Why don't you just get in the air and we'll see how it goes.'

As the two of us mounted our brooms, I smiled at him as challengingly as I could. We rose together and Harry threw the winged, golden ball into the air.

Without hesitation, I bolted towards it, and by his late reaction I'd realised he hadn't set his expectations too high. _All the better._ I heard a gust of wind as he caught up with me, and soon we were flying side by side at a remarkable speed, both pairs of eyes on the golden Snitch.

We flew around the whole pitch for a while before the Snitch descended to about a metre above the ground, the two of us following closely behind. I reached out my hand, and Harry did the same, and through my peripheral vision I made out the crowd of third years in the corner of the pitch watching us closely. It was time to end this. Harry Potter was most certainly not going to win.

I took charge. With as much force as I could gather, I swerved forward, and then to the left, flying right into the Snitch and grabbing it before it had a chance to get away. I heard Harry gasp as we almost collided. I had disorientated him. _Finally Nat_, I thought. _You did something right._

With the Snitch clutched tightly in my hands, I slowed down and turned myself around to face him again. He was standing now, his hair in disarray from the air resistance, which actually made him look remotely attractive. He avoided eye contact with me and turned to walk away back to the group, clearly embarrassed.

'Well?' I said, as I dismounted my broom and caught up with him.

He still didn't look at me. 'Err- thanks for trying out.'

'Thanks for trying out?!' I repeated. The jealous prat.

'What d'you mean?' He knew exactly what I meant.

'I beat you!' I exclaimed. Our walking pace seemed to be increasing.

'I let you win,' he said.

'That is such a lie.'

'There was a gust of wind. I would've won if it wasn't for that. I was so much closer. You just got lucky.'

'I'm good and you know it!'

The tension between us was rising rapidly. He stopped walking and finally turned to face me. I stopped.

'I'll let you know sometime this week,' he said.

'Fine,' I settled. We looked at each other for a moment, and I continued with a complacent grin. 'But I still beat you.' I dropped the Snitch into Harry's hand, and walked past the gaping third-years into the changing rooms.

'Wait!' he called.

_Oh for god's sake._ 'What now?' I continued walking.

Harry stumbled. 'I was wondering if, um... if you'd want to get coffee sometime soon?' _What just happened?! Draco and now this? What was it with this school and coffee?_ '...Y'know, to discuss Seeking,' he gulped. 'And stuff.'

I stifled a smile and looked at my feet, before looking up at him again. 'I'll let you know sometime this week.'

And with a self-satisfied smile, I walked away without a glance back.

* * *

The rest of the week comprised hours of having to relearn things I had covered at half my age. This also meant that I finished homework quickly and had time to at least socialise with people my age. I grew close to Parvati Patil, an Indian witch with a twin sister in Ravenclaw. We chatted in the dorms with a girl called Katie Bell on the Quidditch team and another girl called Imelda Sawbridge. And there was Hermione, of course. My social circle was increasing and quite rapidly I found myself surrounded by a good deal of people that I could now call 'friends'.

A few nights after the Quidditch incident, I'd been sitting in the common room when I'd heard from Angelina Johnson, a girl on the team, that Harry had told her I had made the team as Beater and reserve-Seeker, and that practice was on Saturday mornings. The little shit. Too scared to admit to me I was better than him.

'Hey!' I caught sight of him in the common room and approached him, arms crossed. He jumped, dropping his book.

'Hi,' he replied weakly, reaching for his book.

'So I made the team?'

'Err, yeah. You were the only one who tried out, so...'

'Bullshit. I was better than you.'

'THERE WAS A GUST OF WIND!' he blurted.

'Whatever floats your boat, Potter.'

'Fine, you were good. Okay? Happy?'

'Ecstatic,' I responded dryly, after which I turned back to my spot on the sofa.

'Would you just drop it? You beat me, and you were good, and I just need you to stop, alright? I don't get what your problem is!' he exclaimed.

I turned back around. 'Look, I don't like you, and I certainly don't like having to waste my time redoing school just because you can't sort your own arse out! I'm making a big deal out of it because I'm sacrificing enough for you as it is, alright? So cut me some slack and be a little grateful that you're not sitting in a pile of shit right now, you unappreciative twat!'

There was a silence between us as we assimilated everything I'd just said.

'I'm sorry,' I sighed. _What the fuck is wrong with you, Nat?!_

He shook his head and reopened his book. 'Don't worry about it.'

'I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-'

'It's fine.'

Biting my lip, I continued, 'Harry, I know you're having a tough time right now. That was really rude of me and I do like you, okay? I do. Can we be friends? Start over?' I reached my hand out expectantly.

He glanced back up at me before replying, 'sure,' and with a terribly gashed hand, shook mine.

'Now how about that coffee?'


End file.
